Sacrifices
by Guardian6
Summary: WARNING! STEVE/JESSE SLASH! When Steve's past comes back to haunt him, it's Jesse who pays the price. STORY COMPLETE!!!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Only the character's I created belong to me.

Author's notes: Hi, everyone and welcome to 'Sacrifices'. Thanks to everyone who reviewed Star Struck. This story follows on immediately after those events. Hope you all enjoy it. Please read and review. 

Rating: R. WARNING!!! STEVE/JESSE SLASH!!! In this story, Steve and Jesse have an established relationship. There's nothing explicit but, if you don't like the thought of them as a loving couple, then this story is not for you.

SACRIFICES.

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(PART ONE)

Fifteen years. It was a long time to be out of commission, locked away from the world. A long time to harbour a grudge and a long time to think about what he would do on his release. That day had finally come and it was time to put those plans into action.

Prison had done nothing to change Guy Patterson's outlook on life and it most certainly hadn't reformed him. He had spent his days inside, all 5473 of them, thinking about how he'd ended up where he was and what had gone wrong.

Patterson had gone through life with the attitude that, if he wanted something, he simply took it. It had worked well for a number of years, until he came up against a stubborn cop called Steve Sloan.

It had all been rather humiliating at the time, his crime spree being brought to a halt by a lowly beat cop. He had since learned that the following fifteen years had been kind to that cop and that Sloan was now a Lieutenant with homicide, but that did nothing to appease his anger.

Fifteen years had been a harsh sentence, for a little armed robbery. It wasn't like he had killed anybody. Well, all that was about to change. Guy Patterson was used to merely taking what he wanted and now he wanted revenge.

*****

Steve Sloan slowly opened his eyes. It was morning and he had to get up for work, but he was reluctant to move. The weight on his chest told him, without looking, that his partner had once again chosen to use him as a pillow.

Jesse had been working late the previous night and Steve had been sleeping by the time he'd got home. The young doctor had slipped into bed without disturbing him, so Steve had to try and return the favour now that it was time to get up.

_Speaking of getting up..._ Steve looked down at the sleeping man, aware of how innocent and adorable he looked when he was so at peace. He could hardly believe that he was there, with his best friend, in his bed and his body was starting to respond to the feel of the man snuggled beside him.

Their relationship was still fairly new and, while the bruises from Jesse's bitter experience at the hands of Marcus Marriott had faded, there were still mental scars that would take a whole lot longer to heal.

So far, Steve and Jesse hadn't done anything more than kiss. The kisses were filled with passion and longing, but the young doctor, after so nearly being raped, was still too fragile to deal with anything more. It took all of Steve's self-control not to simply ravish him where he lay, but he had waited for years just to get this far and he would continue to wait until he was sure that Jesse was ready.

Steve carefully eased the sleeping form away from him, somehow managing to manoeuvre him back onto the bed without waking him. He had been as surprised as anyone when, after his recovery period under the ministrations of Mark Sloan was over, Jesse had been in no hurry to move back to his own apartment. The step of moving into Steve's bed had followed shortly afterwards.

Mark was no prude and didn't mind the arrangement one little bit. He was just happy to see the two of them finally together. And so, after a quick shower, Steve headed upstairs to join his father for breakfast.

"Is Jesse not joining us?" Mark asked, already busy cooking.

"I don't know what time he got in last night, but he's still dead to the world. Do you have to work him so hard?"

Mark exchanged a smile with his son. They both knew that Jesse was completely dedicated to his chosen career and not even embarking on a new relationship would cause him to shirk his duties.

"I've given him the weekend off," Mark answered. "And I know you're not working. Why don't the two of you go away somewhere?"

"You know, that's not a bad idea. The change of scene might do him good."

Both father and son knew that Jesse was still plagued by nightmares and that he was still a far cry from being back to his old self. Steve was genuinely grateful to his dad. A break would do them both the world of good.

*****

When Steve got to work that morning, one of his colleagues was waiting with the news that Guy Patterson's jail sentence was over and the man had been released. Steve easily remembered Patterson, his arrest had gone a long way towards forging his career. He also remembered the trial, which the armed robber had stayed silent throughout. There had been no threats, no raving about getting revenge. In fact he had barely even looked at the cop who'd arrested him.

And so, Steve wasn't overly concerned by the news of his release. He made a mental note to keep an eye out, to see if the man were tempted to go back to his old ways but, on the whole, he didn't see any problem with a man simply being released because his sentence was over. He wouldn't even bother mentioning it to his dad or Jesse. If he had known what Patterson was doing, even as those thoughts crossed his mind, he would have taken very different action indeed. 

Before he had been sent to prison, Guy Patterson had often done business with a small-time fence called Billy Bennett and, on his release, it was Bennett whom he sought out first. Aside from fencing stolen goods, Bennett had a reputation of being a reliable source of information. He could find out anything, for the right price. As an added bonus, he was also friends with some thoroughly unsavoury characters, most of whom were always looking for work of the not so legal kind.

Two days after his release from prison, Patterson had hired one such character and had also learned everything that he needed to know about Lieutenant Steve Sloan. The only thing that had him even slightly worried was the cop's reputation. The man seemed to be invincible and Patterson hadn't been sure if he'd be able to get close enough to him to carry out his plan to kill him slowly and painfully.

Then his old friend, Bennett, had come up with the perfect solution.

"You want to get to Sloan?" the fence had said. "Then hit the boyfriend."

"You didn't say anything about a boyfriend?"

"And you didn't ask about his sex life. But it seems that Sloan has hooked up with one of the doctor's from Community General and it's a lot easier to get at a doctor than a cop."

"You got a name?"

"Of course I got a name and seeing as you've put so much business my way, I'll let you have this one for free. It's Doctor Travis. Jesse Travis."

*****

Jesse was immensely looking forward to his weekend off. Steve had told him of his plans to get away for a couple of days, just booking into a motel, somewhere quiet and away from the pressures of work.

It had sounded like heaven to the young doctor. It had been a truly exhausting week. And, though he kept this to himself, he was starting to feel that it was time for him and Steve to take their relationship to the next level.

He had to admit that a part of him was scared. It had been a long time since he'd been in a serious relationship with anyone and, of course, the spectre of Marcus Marriott still hung over him. While he no longer flinched away every time that Steve touched him, he wasn't at all sure how he would react if his prospective lover did start to get intimate.

Part of that fear was allayed by the fact that he had complete and utter faith in Steve. He knew that if things did start to go wrong, he wouldn't be under any pressure to do anything he didn't want to do. And he knew for sure that he would never scare the other man away. After days of self-doubt following their first shared kiss, Steve's constant reassurances had finally got through to the younger man. There really was no need to rush. 

So Jesse was in an excellent mood when he left Community General on the Friday afternoon. Mark had even allowed him to leave a couple of hours early, in order to get home and pack. While most of his things were at the beach house, there were still a few bits that he needed to pick up from his apartment.

Jesse was so preoccupied by thoughts of what might happen in the coming two days, that he completely failed to notice that his Mustang was being followed by a dark grey van. He wasn't even aware of the two men who exited the van as he approached his apartment building. He certainly didn't have time to react before he was clubbed over the back of the head and dumped unceremoniously into the back of the van. 

TO BE CONTINUED...


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: The usual all apply.

Author's notes: I love Jesse. Really I do, but I just can't stop writing these things!

SACRIFICES

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(PART TWO)

Unlike Jesse, Steve hadn't been able to get away from work early that Friday, so he'd arranged for them to meet at Barbeque Bobs that evening. The plan was for them to have dinner, then spend the night at the beach house, ready for an early start on Saturday morning.

His father had told him about how he'd let Jesse get away early, to give him plenty of time to pack, so he was surprised when he arrived at their co-owned restaurant and found no sign of his partner. He spoke to his the staff, but none of them had seen any sign of Jesse. Feeling strangely apprehensive, he called his dad.

"Are you sure that Jesse actually left the hospital when his shift finished this afternoon?" he asked, desperate to find some reason for the other man's absence. "He didn't just fall asleep somewhere, did he?" 

"No, I can assure you, Jesse was so excited about this trip, I couldn't have kept him here if I'd wanted to." Mark's astute ears had picked up the concern in Steve's voice. "You know what he's like at packing, have you called his apartment?"

"Repeatedly, but there's no answer. He's not answering his pager either."

"Well, maybe he got bored waiting. Have you tried the beach house?"

"Yes, dad and he's not there either." Steve tried, but failed to keep the worry out of his tone. "I don't know where else to look."

"Now listen, Steve, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. There could be any number of reasons for him running late."

"At the moment he's more than four hours late and you said yourself that he was looking forward to this weekend. I'm gonna head over to his place and if he does get in touch, just tell him to wait for me at Bobs."

"Will do," Mark started to answer, before swiftly realising that he was talking to himself. His son had already hung up.

*****

It was a slow and painful awakening for Jesse later that evening. His head seemed to throb in rhythm to the rapid beating of his heart. The dry, analytical part of his brain told him that he probably had a concussion. Intrigued by his own ability to self-diagnose in spite of his pain, the young doctor cracked his eyes open.

He was in a sparsely furnished room, seated before a table whose only contents were a telephone and a notepad.

Full realisation kicked in just a moment later. He wasn't _seated_ before the table. He was in fact, tied to a chair. His wrists were bound behind him and his ankles were secured to the legs of the chair.

Following swiftly on the heels of that realisation, was the fact that he was dressed only in his boxer shorts. All of a sudden, his skin seemed to shrink and goose flesh raced up his arms. _Someone had stripped him whilst he'd been unconscious. _The thought left him feeling sick to his stomach. He went to lick at suddenly dry lips, only to discover that there was a gag across his mouth.

Jesse felt himself beginning to panic. He was almost naked and completely helpless, in an unfamiliar room, at the mercy of unknown assailants. As his over-active imagination began to race through dozens of horrific scenarios, the door suddenly opened, causing Jesse to flinch violently.

Two men came into the room and Jesse couldn't help but cower away, as the strangers slowly began to walk towards him. Fleeting images of Marcus Marriott flashed through his brain, even though the tiny part of him that remained rational insisted that it could not be possible.

"So you're finally awake."

It wasn't Marriott, as Jesse had known it wouldn't be, but that did little to allay his fear as one of them grabbed a handful of his hair and forced him to look up at him. 

"Before I went to prison, I would never have even considered going with a man. But in prison, you don't get a choice."

He forced Jesse's head even further back and bent over him, menacingly.

"Do you know how disgusting that is? Do you know what that does to a man? Your boyfriend did that to me. Your sick, perverted boyfriend."

The man abruptly released his hold on the captive's hair and turned away. Then, just as suddenly, he span around and back-handed Jesse, hard, across the mouth. The chair rocked under the force of the blow, but didn't tip over.

"Well, now it's payback time."

Jesse shivered at the threat in his captor's tone. He turned his frightened eyes towards the second man, but he just looked back at him, distaste clearly evident on his face. Then Jesse's tormentor grabbed hold of his chin and forced him to look back at him.

"When all this is over," he whispered, his face very close to the bound man's. "Your boyfriend will be dead. And I'll have done the world a favour."

The second man, who had so far remained silent, took a half-step forward. 

"You wanna do it now, Guy?" he asked. 

Guy regarded their captive for a long moment, then shook his head: "No, let him sweat for a while. We'll do it first thing in the morning." 

With that the two of them left the room, leaving Jesse bound and gagged and alone with his fears.

*****

Steve was going frantic with worry. It was after midnight and there was still no sign of Jesse. When he'd got to the doctor's apartment and found the Mustang parked in its usual spot, he had allowed himself the brief hope that he'd been worrying for nothing, that Jesse had simply fallen asleep at home. That hope, however, proved to be short lived when Steve let himself into the apartment and found no sign of his friend. There was a small pile of mail on the mat, suggesting to Steve that Jesse hadn't even made it through the front door. Jesse's overnight bag was still in the bottom of the wardrobe.

The seasoned detective frowned as he looked around the small apartment. Jesse had driven home but, for some reason, had not made it inside. He'd gone back outside and quickly checked the Mustang, but that offered him no clues, then he'd questioned all of the neighbours.

When that laborious and fruitless task was over, Steve had been at a loss as to where else to look. He'd called his dad, but he'd heard nothing from Jesse either. Finally and with his apprehension growing rapidly, he'd called the station.

Jesse hadn't been missing long enough to be officially classed as a missing person, but enough people owed him favours and he was slightly appeased by the knowledge that the search for the young doctor had begun.

After that, the hours had dragged by with tortuous slowness. Steve had gone back to the beach house and met up with his dad. There they had waited and worried together. As the night dragged on, both of them eventually had to give in to their exhaustion and grabbed a couple of hours sleep.

*****

Jesse barely slept at all. As tired as he was, his discomfort would only allow him to slip into a light doze. Even the slightest noise, real or imagined, jerked him back awake. It was pitch black in the room he was in and he had no idea as to even the time of day and there was no way for him to track the passage of time. The night seemed to drag on forever.

He must have slept eventually, because the next thing he knew, he was being slapped roughly around the face. He dragged himself back to consciousness, wincing as his cramped muscles protested at the movement. Now there was a light source, somewhere behind him and he looked up to find Guy, once again, leaning over him.

"Wake up, you little faggot."

He moved round to the back of Jesse and tugged at his bonds, checking them in case the doctor had struggled during the night and loosened them. Jesse wished that he'd been able to, but his arms were almost completely numb.

"I do hope that you slept well." With unnecessary roughness he tore the gag from Jesse's mouth. "Because today is your big day."

"Who are you?" the young doctor managed to croak. His mouth was parched and he licked his dry lips.

"Who I am doesn't matter." Guy answered. "It's who you are that's important. You're going to call Steve Sloan and you're going to tell him to come here."

"No," Jesse whispered. He remembered what Guy had said about killing Steve and wasn't about to lead him into a trap.

"Believe me, you will. Mitch! Get in here!"

The other man must have been waiting just outside the door, as he entered the moment he was called. Jesse could see that he was holding a gun.

"It looks like our friend is going to need a little persuasion," Guy told him, his tone menacing.

Mitch smiled nastily and tucked the gun into his waistband. Without hesitation, he strode to where Jesse sat, then punched him hard in the stomach. The doctor cried out, but his bonds wouldn't even allow him to double over. A second brutal blow followed, this time to his face.

"Now, now." Guy placed a restraining hand on the thug's arm. "Don't get carried away. We discussed how we're going to do this, remember?" 

Mitch nodded reluctantly and moved around the back of the chair. Jesse could feel him beginning to untie him. He tried to tense his muscles, to prepare himself to fight the moment that he was free, but then Guy pulled out his own gun and calmly pointed it at him.

"Let's not do anything stupid, hey doc?"

A moment later and Mitch was finished. Jesse's left arm had been freed, but his right was still securely bound. The thug pushed Jesse's chair closer to the table and forced his left hand onto it, palm down and with his fingers splayed. There he held him in an iron grip.

"I'm going to tell you one more time," Guy snarled. "Call your boyfriend and tell him to come here. The address is right there."

Jesse's eyes dropped to the notepad on the table and saw what was written on it. At least now he knew where he was, but he didn't know what good that information would do him. He certainly wasn't going to pass it on to Steve.

Even though fear raced through him, he knew he couldn't betray the man that he loved. Silently dreading the consequences, Jesse shook his head.

"Make the call."

Jesse stared silently at the telephone, desperately trying to think of a way to stall for time. Guy moved to stand on his left side, next to the man who still held him.

"You're a doctor, a surgeon, right? And from what I've heard, you're pretty good at it. How good would you be if I were to break all of your fingers?"

Jesse tensed, knowing what was coming, but completely unable to struggle against Mitch's grip. Guy suddenly slammed the butt of his gun onto the doctor's exposed little finger, just below the knuckle and Jesse cried out as the skin split and the bones were smashed.

"Not once." Guy repeated the action, just above the knuckle, forcing another cry from the captive. "But twice."

He poised the gun over Jesse's ring finger.

"I'll break every bone in your hands, both of them, if I have to." The gun was slammed down for a third time. "Make the call."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: All still apply.

SACRIFICES

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(PART THREE)

Jesse's hand was on fire. Unable to bear the torture any more, he swallowed hard and nodded defeatedly. Guy lifted the receiver and held it to the doctor's ear. Finally released from Mitch's hold, Jesse lifted his shaking, injured hand and somehow managed to dial Steve's cell phone number, without hitting a wrong button.

He had no choice but to dial slowly, his hand was screaming agony and the broken fingers were already beginning to swell. Once this task was completed, Jesse listened to the ringing at the other end, silently hoping that his friend wouldn't answer. It wouldn't help his situation, but at least it would delay the moment of his betrayal. To his dismay, Steve answered after just four rings.

"Steve, it's Jesse." Guy rested his gun on the doctor's shoulder, as a constant threat.

"Jesse, where are you?" Steve's relief was evident in his voice. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"No, Steve. I'm not so good." His eyes fell to the notepad in front of him, the address where the ambush waited.

"Why? Jesse, what's wrong?"

"I can't talk now. I need you to meet me at..." He hesitated, appalled by what he was about to do. Guy tapped the gun lightly on his shoulder. "At one-forty-six..."

Jesse couldn't finish. He was luring the man he loved to his death. Luring him to face two armed men, alone and believing that it was only Jesse who waited for him. And he was doing it because Guy had threatened to break his fingers, to end his career. Steve's life, or his career. There was no competition.

"No, Steve!" He shouted suddenly. "It's somebody called Guy! He..."

He got no further as Guy brought the gun crashing down onto the back of his head and he slumped forward, unconscious.

*****

"Jesse? Jesse!" Steve yelled into the phone, even though he knew it was futile.

He'd heard Jesse say that it was somebody called Guy, then there had been a thud and moments later the phone had gone dead.

Steve had been on his way to work when the phone had rang, intending to personally head the search for the young doctor. He knew that his Captain might object to that, but he really didn't care. Now, after the aborted phone call, he cared even less.

_Guy Patterson._ It had to be him and Steve silently cursed himself for not paying more attention to the man's release from prison. He quickly dialled the station to inform his colleagues of the phone call he'd just received and he demanded all of the information that they had on Guy Patterson. As soon as he'd got it, Steve was racing towards the man's last known address. He knew that the solution was unlikely to be that simple, but it was better than doing nothing.

He cursed himself again as he drove, dangerously quickly, with sirens screaming. He could only imagine what his laxness, in not seeing Patterson as a threat, had cost Jesse. The young man's pain had been evident in his voice even over the phone line.

*****

Jesse awoke to absolute agony pounding through his head. Then the pain from his injured fingers kicked in and he moaned softly. His bound right hand hadn't allowed him to fall fully over the table and he was sat, slumped awkwardly. Slowly he raised his head.

"And just how stupid was that?" Guy's voice came from just behind his left ear. "You think by doing that you've saved your boyfriend's life? Guess again."

Guy picked up the telephone and Jesse bit his lip. He'd done what he could to try and help Steve, but it seemed like his captors had a contingency plan. He watched silently, as Guy pressed the re-dial button, then laid the receiver on the table.

Suddenly, Jesse found his left hand held, once again, in Mitch's solid grip. He tried to struggle, to curl his fingers into a fist and offer them at least a little protection, but he was no match for the thug. He heard Steve's voice, faintly, through the telephone receiver.

Then he could only watch in horror as Guy brought the butt of the gun crashing forcefully down. Once, twice, three times. Jesse screamed as his first two fingers shattered.

He wasn't even allowed the luxury of unconsciousness and the doctor in him couldn't understand that. He was in so much pain that he should have passed out, but he could only stare dully at his crippled hand and listen to Steve's voice screaming his name down the telephone.

Guy picked up the receiver.

"Come to one-forty-six Western Avenue," he said, ignoring the detective's pleas and questions. "You've got half an hour, or you'll be hearing him scream again."

As Guy hung up the phone, Mitch grabbed hold of Jesse's left arm and, ignoring his gasp of pain, secured it behind his back again. Once that was done, the two thugs dragged the chair away from the table and back against the wall, facing the door.

Jesse, by this time was shivering violently. He was feeling sick with the pain and knew that he was going into shock, but his captors still hadn't finished with him.

"I need to make sure that you've got Sloan's full attention when he gets here," Guy said, pulling a knife from his belt and advancing on the bound man.

"No, please," Jesse begged, fearful of being cut, of having to endure more pain. But what Guy had in store for him was somehow infinitely worse.

*****

Guy Patterson looked with disgust at the pale, trembling man tied to the chair. Ever since his time in jail, he'd hated them. _Gays, queers, faggots. _Whatever you wanted to call them, he hated them with a passion. And when he'd found out that Steve Sloan was that way inclined, it had made his revenge all the more sweeter.

But one thing he wasn't going to do was underestimate the detective. He knew that Sloan would enter the building cautiously, that was a cop's way, but he needed him to throw that caution to the wind if his plan was going to succeed.

That was where the doctor came in. Sloan would already be worried, having heard him scream, but he wanted more than just worry. He wanted Sloan to be so desperate to help his lover, that he would ignore everything else and rush blindly to help him.

So he stood over his captive, knife poised, and swallowed his distaste. He grabbed at the waistband of Jesse's shorts and, with two swift downward strokes of the knife, cut his last item of clothing off him. He ripped the ruined material out from under the young doctor, leaving him completely naked. Ever since he'd served his time, the sight of a naked man had sickened him, but this time it was different. This time, the sight gave him pleasure, as he imagined what Sloan's reaction would be.

"Well now," he sneered, his gaze locking onto Jesse's groin. "Wouldn't you have been a popular boy on the inside?"

He laughed and Jesse, silent tears streaming down his face, heard Mitch join in with the mocking laughter.

Forcing himself to look up, Jesse's wild gaze flickered between the two men, terrified of what else they might do to him, but needing to know where the next assault was coming from. Even though his vision was blurred by tears, he saw that something was not quite right with Mitch. The man's laughter had a forced quality to it and the look on his face was one of open disgust.

"Please..." Jesse latched on to this slightest of hopes and aimed his entreaty at Mitch, but the other man just turned away.

Anything else he might have said was prevented by Guy's fist crashing into his jaw. Jesse greyed out and when he once again became aware, his tormentor was reaching into his pocket.

"When you've quite finished," he muttered, pulling out a roll of tape. "We don't want you warning your boyfriend too soon now, do we?"

He tore a strip of tape off and fastened it firmly over Jesse's mouth. That done, Guy stepped back and looked at his handiwork critically. Then, seemingly as an afterthought, he tore off a second strip of tape and placed it over his captive's fearful, pleading eyes.

"Let's go," he said to Mitch.

And Jesse was once again left alone, but now with some new and unwanted fears. As desperate as he was to get out of there, he didn't want Steve to find him like that. How could he ever look him in the eye again, when he had been reduced to such total humiliation?

*****

Steve was driving like a maniac. Half an hour was barely enough time for him to get to the address he'd been given, but he was determined to make it. Jesse's agonised scream still reverberated around his head and he swore that he wasn't going to let the young man suffer any more.

He had no doubt that Patterson would carry out his threat and his stomach churned as he thought of what might have already happened, to make the young doctor cry out like that.

Steve had called his dad, knowing how worried he was, then he'd phoned the station. He'd given his colleagues the address that he'd been directed to, but knew that it was unlikely that anyone would get there in time to help him. He had blatantly ignored his Captain's order to wait for back-up.

_I'm sorry, Jesse, _he whispered to himself and then he could only pray that he would be able to apologise to the young man in person.

So Steve drove as fast as he'd ever driven in his life before, leaving blaring horns and angry drivers in his wake. His eyes constantly strayed to the clock on the dashboard, as it counted down the minutes with ridiculous speed. When twenty-five minutes had passed and he was nearing his goal, he kept glancing nervously to where his cell phone lay on the seat next to him, praying that it wouldn't start to ring.

He arrived at his destination with only seconds to spare. 146 Western Avenue was a nice, tidy detached house in a quiet neighbourhood. The front door stood ajar and Steve approached it slowly, knowing that it had to be a trap, but also knowing that he didn't have any time to waste looking for an alternative entrance.

His half hour was up and, as he moved, he was half-expecting to hear another blood-curdling scream, but thankfully none came. When he entered the house, he found himself in a reception area. There was a door on either side of him and a third directly opposite. That one stood slightly open and Steve knew that he was being led. He tried the two other doors anyway and was not surprised to find them locked.

Gripping his gun tightly in his right hand, he slowly approached the only avenue left open to him. Gently, he pushed the door open then stood, frozen in horror, by the scene that greeted him.

Jesse, his Jesse, was tied to a chair, gagged and blindfolded and completely naked. Steve shuddered to think of what the young man was going through. It was only a few weeks since he'd barely escaped being raped. This ordeal must have been terrifying for him.

As Guy had hoped would happen, everything else ceased to exist for Steve Sloan. He had to help Jesse. It was, after all, his fault that he was there. And he was hurt. As Steve got closer, he could see that blood had pooled underneath the chair.

He reached the captive's side and, holstering his gun, knelt next to him, tugging first at the blindfold, then at the gag. He couldn't help but notice the way the young man cowered away from him, nor the cry that escaped his lips as the tape was removed.

"It's okay, Jesse. It's me," he soothed. "It's okay, you're safe."

To his consternation, Jesse spared him only the briefest of glances, then turned his face away, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks.

"It's okay, Jess."

Steve kept talking as he got back to his feet and began to undo the bonds at Jesse's wrists. He barely managed to bite back a cry of horror when he saw the state of the doctor's bloodied, bruised and swollen left hand. 

"Christ," he murmured. "What..?"

He never got to complete the question as, suddenly, he heard a noise behind him. He started to turn, caught a glimpse of a man he instantly recognised, a man who had been at the forefront of his mind for the past day, then he heard a shot. White hot pain bit through his right calf and he crashed heavily to the ground.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: All still apply.

SACRIFICES

__

(PART FOUR)

Steve didn't lose consciousness when the bullet tore through his leg, he couldn't afford to. He still had Jesse to look out for. Somehow, he managed to twist onto his back until he was facing the gunman, desperately trying to retrieve his own weapon.

It was only then that he realised that there were two men in the room, besides him and Jesse. One of them, the stranger, held a gun firmly trained on the still bound man.

"Nice and slowly," Guy said, gesturing needlessly with his gun. "Throw it over here."

Steve had no choice but to comply. As his weapon skittered away from him, he was left as helpless as Jesse. Guy stalked over to where he lay then, quite deliberately, stamped down on the bullet hole in his leg.

The detective bit down, hard, on his lower lip. He couldn't afford to show any sign of weakness, not when Jesse so obviously needed him. The young doctor was in serious need of medical attention and he would ignore his own pain, until he was sure that the man he loved was alright.

"You bastard," Guy spat, glaring down at the prone man. "You have no idea what you put me through."

He aimed the gun again and the second bullet tore through the fleshy part of Steve's upper right arm.

"Steve!"

Jesse couldn't help but cry out as his lover was shot for a second time. But Jesse was too close to where Guy stood. The former armed robber lashed out blindly and the muzzle of the gun caught the young doctor's temple a glancing blow.

Steve, lying helpless and in pain, felt physically sick as Jesse slumped forwards against his bonds. He forced himself into a half-upright position.

"Let him go," he gasped, clutching at his wounded arm. "You've got me, I'm who you want. Let him go."

"If only it were that simple." Guy fired for a third time and, this time, Steve did cry out as a bullet thumped into his thigh.

The detective's hands flew to the most recently inflicted wound, as he attempted to stop the sudden flow of blood. Guy instantly saw what he was trying to do and gestured Mitch over to him. Between them, they forced Steve onto his stomach. Guy had taken Steve's handcuffs from his belt and used them to secure his arms behind his back.

"Okay, now you and me are going to go for a little ride."

Guy hauled Steve to his feet and the detective somehow managed to remain upright, despite the fire in his calf and thigh.

"What about Jesse?" His concern was still only for the other man.

"Don't you worry about him." Guy smiled, nastily. "I'm going to leave him in my friend's very capable hands. I'm sure that Mitch will take very good care of him."

Steve looked nervously towards the other thug, not liking the implications of what Guy had said. What he saw did little to reassure him. Mitch was toying with his gun and staring at the doctor with an unreadable expression.

"Let's go."

Guy took a firm grip on Steve's arm and began to lead him from the room. Steve had no choice but to limp along after him. It was either that or be dragged. But he couldn't leave without sparing one last glance towards Jesse.

The young doctor was just beginning to stir and his eyes widened in horror when he saw what had happened.

"Jesse, I'm sorry." Steve had felt an overwhelming need to apologise now, just in case he never got the chance again.

"Steve..."

Then Guy tugged more firmly on his prisoner's arm and forced him out through the door.

*****

Left alone with Mitch, Jesse stared at his captor and, once again, noticed that the man did not seem entirely comfortable with the situation. He certainly wasn't enjoying himself, like Guy obviously was.

Jesse could easily guess why Mitch had been left behind with him and he also knew that it was up to him to save himself. And he was the only chance that Steve had. Fear threatened to overwhelm him as he thought of how Steve had looked, as he was half- dragged, bleeding heavily, out of the room. But he forced himself to push it to one side. He had to concentrate on survival, both his and Steve's.

"Have you ever murdered anyone before?" Jesse asked and, though his voice was hoarse, his tone was remarkably calm.

Mitch flinched when he spoke and the young doctor realised that he had been lost in thought. It seemed as though the thug was having second thoughts.

"Have you ever even been to prison?"

Mitch just stared at him and Jesse knew that the answer to both of his questions was no.

"He was right, you know." Jesse had sensed an advantage and pressed on. "Your friend, Guy. He was right about what happens on the inside."

At that moment, the doctor was horribly aware of his own nakedness and, while the last thing he wanted to talk about was rape, he knew he had to if he was going to stand any chance of getting out of the situation alive.

"Shut up." Mitch's voice was a strangled whisper. Jesse's words were starting to get to him.

"I'm a doctor and I've seen rape victims," Jesse continued, unperturbed. "Male rape victims..."

Mitch moved with lightning speed, crossing to where the captive sat. With one hand he grabbed hold of his chin, forcing his head up. The other held the gun, pressed firmly to his temple.

"I said shut up!"

Now was not the time to show fear. Even though he was trembling inside, Jesse forced himself not to flinch. He looked calmly into the eyes of the man who was threatening him.

"You'll get a life sentence if you kill me," he said. "That's a lot of days. A lot of nights."

For a brief, terrifying moment Jesse thought that he had gone too far. Real fear flashed across Mitch's features and his finger tightened on the trigger. But he thought he could hear sirens in the distance and the thought that help might be on his way gave him strength.

"And if your friend kills Steve, you'll be implicated in that, too."

"They won't catch me."

But Mitch's voice lacked any conviction, his words just token defiance. The sirens were getting louder and, while hearing sirens in the distance was nothing unusual in LA, the thug glanced nervously towards the door.

"Help me," Jesse said, as Mitch released his grip on him and just stood there hesitantly, seemingly caught in two minds. "Please."

*****

Guy dragged Steve out of 146 Western Avenue and all but threw him into the back of a dark grey van that had been parked next to the house. The detective landed heavily and almost passed out as new agony tore through his injuries. 

In spite of his pain, Steve allowed himself the slightest of smiles. He'd noticed the van when he'd first pulled up for the rendezvous and, knowing that Guy might well use it to switch locations, had made a quick phone call on his way into the house. Every cop in LA would be looking for that van.

What he hadn't anticipated was him and Jesse being separated. And, when he thought of the situation that he'd left his young friend in, his smile abruptly faded.

A few moments later, the van started moving. Steve, lying bound on the floor had no way to protect himself as Guy took a corner too sharply and sent him crashing into one side of the van. The detective cursed loudly at the pain but then, on hearing a sadistic chuckle from the driver, vowed to show no further sign of weakness.

But, if he had thought the ride had been rough to begin with, it got immensely worse when he first heard a siren behind them.

Guy drove like a maniac, throwing Steve around in the back and continuously jarring his wounds. His hands, though cuffed, constantly groped for something to hold onto, to brace himself, but it was pointless. He was thrown around the back of the van like a rag-doll. As a last resort, he decided to try the voice of reason.

"Give it up, Patterson," he called, somehow managing to keep the pain out of his voice. "You won't get away. Make it easy for yourself."

"I'm not going back to prison," Guy spat back. "I'll kill us both before I do that."

And, if it were possible, his driving became even more manic.

*****

Back at the house, Mitch finally reached a decision. Tucking his gun into his belt he looked at the helpless doctor and shook his head.

"I'm not gonna kill you," he said, much to Jesse's relief. "But I'm not gonna hang around for them either."

"Just tell me, please, where did he take Steve?"

"Sorry, kid."

Jesse could only watch hopelessly as Mitch ran from the room. From the sound of the sirens, the cops were almost there, but that did little to reassure him. All he could tell them was that Steve was badly hurt and the prisoner of a homophobic madman called Guy.

The burst of adrenaline that had sustained him while he'd tried to reason with Mitch quickly wore off and Jesse's pain returned with a vengeance. That, coupled with the knowledge that he had been unable to help Steve, proved to be too much for him. As the sirens continued to get louder, he slumped against his bonds and wept.

A distant part of him was aware of the screech of tyres as cars pulled up outside. There was a lot of shouting and suddenly the room was full of people but, in spite of the commotion, Jesse still couldn't find the energy or the motivation to lift his head.

Somebody crouched beside him and the residual instincts from his ordeal caused him to flinch away. 

"You'd better get Doctor Sloan in here."

Those words finally got through to Jesse and he looked up. There were half a dozen cops in the room with him and the young doctor was suddenly horribly and deeply ashamed. Someone was untying him, but even that barely registered through his embarrassment. Too many people had seen him, naked and vulnerable, and he felt as though every set of eyes in the room was trained only on him.

As the ropes at his wrists and ankles were released, Jesse jerked away from hands that were only trying to help him and scuttled to the farthest, darkest corner of the room and curled into a ball.

"It's okay." One of the cops was approaching him in much the same way he might approach a cornered animal. "You're safe."

But Jesse, his traumatised mind almost completely lost in panic, only shook his head and shrank further away.

"Doctor Sloan, thank God." The cop turned away, gesturing helplessly towards the man in the corner. "He won't let me get near him."

But Mark wasn't listening. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on his terrified young colleague. In one hand he held a blanket and he proffered it to Jesse silently, all the while edging closer to him.

Jesse snatched the blanket from him then, fumbling awkwardly, tried one-handed to wrap it around himself. Mark swiftly closed the rest of the distance between them and gently eased the thick woollen material around his slender shoulders.

His eyes fell to Jesse's left hand, the one he had so obviously avoided using, and he recoiled slightly when he saw the state that it was in.

"Jesse..." he began.

But the young man wasn't listening. Reaching out blindly, he grabbed hold of Mark's shirt front with his good hand.

"Make him tell you where he took Steve," he gasped, desperately. "Please, Mark. You've got to make him tell you where he took Steve."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: All still apply.

SACRIFICES

__

(PART FIVE)

Guy Patterson had once been a successful armed robber. He knew all about getaway cars, reckless driving, and how to avoid the police. Unfortunately for him, he had also been in prison for fifteen years and, during that time, police procedures had not only changed, they had also drastically improved.

Losing his pursuers was proving to be impossible, but he had meant what he'd said to Steve. Death was infinitely preferable to him than a return to prison. So, slewing the van wildly across the road and smiling grimly at the muffled cry of pain this elicited from his captive, he changed his course and headed towards the docks.

A police helicopter was tracking the van's progress, while patrol units converged from every direction. Without knowing it, Guy was being neatly shepherded exactly to where the police wanted him to go.

Guy had heard of 'stingers' but had never had first-hand experience of them. As he drove down a road that ran adjacent to the docks, he was aware of movement ahead of him. He caught a brief glimpse of police uniforms and saw them throw something across the road, straight into his path. Not knowing what it was, sheer instinct caused him to swerve, but by then it was too late.

The van's offside tyres ran right over the spiked mat and were instantly shredded. There was no way that Guy could maintain control. The van skidded in a huge arc, as he desperately fought the wheel. It was futile. As Guy saw the side of a building rushing towards him with frightening speed, he gave up any pretence that he might escape. 

Taking a firm grip of the steering wheel, he planted his foot firmly on the accelerator. Death was, after all, infinitely preferable to prison.

*****

Mark had eventually been forced to sedate Jesse. The younger doctor just wouldn't calm down enough to allow his friend to treat him. Aside from the very obvious injuries to his hand, Jesse's face was bruised and dried blood matted the hair on the back of his head.

But Jesse had continued to fight him, pleading with him to find somebody called Mitch, in order to make him tell then where Steve was. Mark, of course, had been kept up to date with events and he knew that the police were closing in on Steve and his kidnapper. When he tried to tell this to Jesse, the young man simply refused to listen and, as his agitation grew, Mark had been left with no choice.

The hurt in Jesse's eyes as he'd administered the drug almost broke Mark's heart but he knew, as a doctor, that he was doing the right thing. The drug took effect almost immediately and Jesse sagged forward into his arms.

Only then could Mark take a proper look at his injured hand and the sight horrified him. His fingers looked as though they had been crushed and, while the swelling prevented a completely accurate diagnosis, Mark shuddered to think of what permanent damage might have been done.

At his bidding, an ambulance had been called and when it arrived, Mark helped the paramedics to transfer his young friend into it. Then he sat by his side, holding his good hand and murmuring soothing words during the drive to Community General, regardless of the fact that the injured man couldn't hear him.

When they arrived at the hospital, Mark still refused to leave his side. As worried as he was about Steve, he needed to be doing something constructive. And he needed to see for himself what the real damage was to Jesse's hand. 

It didn't look good and when Mark thought of what any permanent disability would mean to his colleague, his heart turned to ice in his chest. If he could no longer work in the ER, it would destroy Jesse.

*****

The police approached the wrecked van cautiously. While it was unlikely that the driver could have survived the head-on crash, they weren't taking any chances.

One officer, his gun drawn, peered in through the driver's side window, then turned abruptly away, sickened by what he saw. The man hadn't been wearing a seatbelt and had connected violently with the windshield, before being thrown back into his seat. There wasn't much of his face left.

Other officers yanked open the back doors. Steve was sprawled on the floor of the van, blood pouring from a vicious gash on his head , as well as the bullet wounds inflicted by Guy. He was white-faced with pain, but somehow was still conscious.

"Jesse," he muttered, through gritted teeth. "Tell me you found Jesse."

"We found him," an officer hurried to assure him. "He's on his way to the hospital. Your dad is with him."

One of the cops was removing the cuffs from Steve's wrists. He worked as gently as he could, but Steve still hissed in pain. It was only then that he realised that his right arm was broken.

"Get me to Community General," he said, attempting to get to his feet.

"The ambulance will be here any minute."

"Take me in one of the cars," Steve snapped, his worry making him short-tempered. "I have to get there now!"

"With all due respect, sir..."

The cop was saved the trouble of having to argue by the arrival of the ambulance. Steve allowed one of the officers to help him into the back, then told the paramedics, in no uncertain terms, that they could treat him on the way to the hospital.

"If we don't get moving, I'm going to get out and walk," he threatened, when they'd tried to protest. "I have to get to Community General. _Now!_"

The paramedics wisely decided that it would be easier to accede than to argue. As they took off, with sirens screaming, Steve finally lay back and allowed them to start patching him up.

*****

Mark had been informed that his son was on his way and so was waiting when Steve was wheeled in on a gurney. The doctor paled when he saw Steve's blood-soaked clothes. He didn't have time to dwell on the matter as Steve surged up against hands that were trying to help him and locked gazes with his father.

"Tell me how Jesse is, dad," he pleaded. "They won't tell me how Jesse is."

Mark hurried to his side and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"He's in surgery, son," he said, not prepared to lie, even as he saw the anguish on Steve's face. "I don't know if you saw, but his hand is..."

He trailed off as he choked on the memory. The hand had looked bad at first glance. On closer inspection, it had looked worse.

"Dad?"

"It looks like somebody went at it with a hammer. Two of his fingers are crushed, the other two broken."

Steve's face paled even further as he realised the implications of what he was being told. All of the fight was drained out of him and he lay back, his eyes filling with tears. He loved Jesse, with all of his heart, but what had that love cost?

Guy Patterson had known how much he cared for the young doctor and had used it in his twisted plot for revenge. If he and Jesse hadn't been involved, then Jesse wouldn't have been hurt. Jesse's career wouldn't now be hanging in the balance. _Never again,_ Steve vowed silently. _Nobody will ever hurt him again, because of me._

*****

Mark sat in the doctor's lounge with his head in his hands and allowed the events of the day to catch up with him. Both his son and his dear friend had undergone surgery and were now lost in deep, healing sleep. It still wasn't over for Jesse. He'd need further, extensive surgery, in order to try and rebuild his shattered hand. And there were still no guarantees that he would ever regain full mobility.

As for Steve... Mark sighed heavily as he thought about his son. He had gone to visit him after his operation to remove the bullets and set his arm. Steve had been strangely quiet, almost lethargic and Mark couldn't get him to talk. Most worrying of all, he hadn't once asked after Jesse.

Mark rubbed at his face tiredly. He was exhausted, but was loath to go home when two of the people he cared most about in the world, were lying hurt elsewhere in the hospital.

Amanda found him, still sitting there, some hours later.

"Mark," she said, placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. "How are they?"

"Okay, I guess. Steve's going to be fine. But Jesse... Well, only time will tell with Jesse."

He didn't know exactly how much Amanda knew and he didn't know if he had the energy to offer her a detailed explanation. Of course she'd know about his hand, but there was also the state that Jesse had been in when they'd found him. The way he'd huddled into a corner like a frightened animal.

Mark couldn't help but wonder if it was only Jesse's physical well-being that he should be worried about. Amanda was a close friend to all of them and she had a right to know, so that she could do her part in aiding Jesse with the healing process.

"Mark?" Amanda prompted gently, as the silence stretched.

"We don't know exactly what they did to him, but he was..." Mark bit back a sob, as the stress that he'd been under finally started to show. 

Amanda moved quickly to put her arm around him.

"Not only did they beat him and wreck his hand," Mark somehow managed to continue, his voice thick with unshed tears. "But they... stripped him and left him... naked..."

"Oh no," Amanda whispered, horrified.

Like Mark, she was remembering Jesse's horrendous ordeal with Marcus Marriott. The young doctor was only just beginning to get over that. This latest incident could set his recovery back indefinitely.

"We don't know what else they might have done." Mark's voice dropped to a whisper. "He was in such a state, so scared. He wouldn't let anyone near him. God, Amanda, if you'd have seen him..."

It all became too much for the compassionate man. Tears started to spill down his cheeks. Tears for both Jesse and Steve. And Amanda simply took him into her arms and cried along with him.

*****

Amanda had been so concerned about Mark that she had insisted on driving him home, then sat with him until he'd drifted off to sleep. After making a quick call to her babysitter, she'd settled down in the guest room.

Both of them only got a couple of hours sleep, but that was better than nothing and Amanda was on hand the next morning to ensure that Mark at least tried to eat something, before driving him back to the hospital.

They were greeted with the news that both men had had a comfortable night so, with warm thanks to Amanda for her care, Mark headed up to see his son. 

Comfortable night or not, Steve's mood hadn't improved from the previous day. He glanced towards the door as his dad entered, then lowered his gaze back to the bedclothes.

"How do you feel?" Mark asked, not as a doctor, but as a father.

"Not too bad, considering."

Mark waited for what he thought was the inevitable question, as to Jesse's health, to follow. When Steve remained silent, he decided to take the bull by the horns and try to find out what was wrong.

"Jesse's doing a little better."

"That's good news."

"Do you want to see him?" Mark could hardly believe that he'd had to ask that question, he'd expected his son to be camped out in his friend's room. "Maybe you could sit with him for a while."

"No."

"What?"

"Which part of the word 'no' didn't you understand, dad?" Steve snapped. It was hurting him to say such words, but he felt as though he had no choice. "I don't want to sit with Jesse. I don't even want to see him. Not now, not ever."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: All still apply.

SACRIFICES

__

(PART SIX)

Mark went straight from Steve's room to visit Jesse, not knowing what he would say to the young man if he asked to see Steve. He needn't have worried. The strange mood that had affected Steve seemed to have transferred itself to Jesse as well.

He didn't even move when Mark entered the room. He just lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Even from a distance, Mark could see the tear tracks on his face.

"Give it time, Jess," he said, softly.

His voice got no response from the injured young man, but more tears rushed to replace those that had already fallen.

"Jesse?" Mark asked, perching on the edge of the bed. "Son, what is it?"

Jesse ignored him. Mark wanted nothing more than to gather him into a hug, but he had to stop himself. Jesse was just too fragile, both physically and emotionally.

"Jesse, please." Mark felt helpless and it wasn't a feeling that he liked. "Talk to me."

Jesse didn't even so much as blink. How could he talk to Mark, when he couldn't even bear to look at him? Mark had seen him, just as Steve and half a dozen other cops had seen him. How could he face any of them ever again, knowing that he would only see open disgust on their faces?

But Mark wasn't prepared to leave him like that. He reached out a tentative hand and gently touched his shoulder. When this failed to provoke a reaction, he grew bolder and gave that shoulder a loving squeeze.

"Don't shut me out, Jess. I want to help you. Please."

Jesse squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the desperate flow of tears. He knew that Mark wasn't going to go away, but he still couldn't bring himself to face him.

"Jess, I know that you've been through a terrible ordeal," Mark tried again. "But it won't help if you bottle it up. You need to..."

He trailed off as Jesse rolled over onto his side, away from him. Mark's hand dropped back to his side and he stared at Jesse's back, his heart aching at the desolation in his whole demeanour.

"Steve's doing better." Unwilling to just give up, Mark tried the same tact that he'd used on his son.

Jesse had been told the previous night that Steve was safe and Guy dead, but even that hadn't drawn a verbal response from him. All he could think about was Steve lying bleeding on the floor, Steve being dragged away from him, hardly able to walk. Steve looking back at him, horrified and ashamed by the level he had been reduced to.

Now, unseen by Mark, a fleeting smile touched Jesse's lips. Steve was going to be fine. It was all that he cared about. No matter what, he loved the detective and couldn't bear the thought of him being hurt. But now was the time to let go of that love. Every time he thought of Steve, he could only see the look on his face when he'd found him tied to that chair. It was hard to admit, but Jesse didn't think he'd ever be able to face him again after that.

*****

Mark put his glasses on to study the X-rays that Doctor King was showing him. Daniel King had been Jesse's surgeon, but he knew how close he and Mark were and had promised to involve the older doctor every step of the way.

Now, holding the X-rays up to the light, he could clearly see the damage that had been done to the young man's hand.

"As you can see," King was explaining. "Two of his fingers had relatively clean breaks, there was no damage to the knuckle and they should mend without any problems. As for the other two, well they're the real worry. They seem to have taken the brunt of... whatever was used on him."

Aside from his desperate pleas to find Steve, Jesse still hadn't said a word, so they were no closer to knowing exactly what he had been through.

"I've inserted metal pins, to try and encourage the bones to knit properly," King continued, needlessly. The pins clearly showed up on the X-rays. "But, to be honest, only time will tell. Maybe when the swelling goes down we can have another look, but... I'm sorry, Mark, I wish it was better news."

Mark nodded, still staring at the X-rays. He'd been desperately hoping for a more positive prognosis, so that he might go to his friend with some good news and maybe pull him out of his stupor that way. Unfortunately, 'maybe' didn't count as good news.

*****

Mark didn't think that he was ready to face Jesse with only more bad news, so he decided to delay the moment by visiting Steve on the way. His son's recovery was progressing nicely, even though his continuing bad mood didn't reflect that.

"How are you feeling, son?" Mark asked, sitting in the chair at the side of the bed.

Steve merely shrugged in response and Mark sighed heavily. Something was definitely wrong between his son and his closest friend and he needed to find out what. He decided to stop beating about the bush. 

"Steve, I've just spoken to Jesse's surgeon."

"I don't care," Steve retorted, but Mark could tell from the way that he avoided meeting his gaze that he was lying.

"Well I think that you do care, so I'm going to tell you anyway," he continued, undaunted by the belligerent look his son flashed his way. "And you're going nowhere, so you've got no choice but to listen."

"Dad..." Steve tried to protest, knowing that it was futile. His leg, heavily bandaged in two places, kept him trapped in his hospital bed.

"I'll be blunt. It's not good news. There's a chance that Jesse may never fully recover from this." He leaned forward intensely. "And if that turns out to be the case, he's going to need all of our strength and support. He's especially going to need you, Steve."

Steve finally turned to look at his dad and Mark's heart went out to him. His eyes were filled with tears and there was a look of absolute anguish on his face.

"I can't," he gasped, trying to keep his emotions under control. "Don't you see? This is all my fault."

"Steve..."

"No, dad. He hurt Jesse to get at me." Steve closed his eyes as the first of his tears started to fall. "If Jesse is... If he doesn't... It would be my fault. How can I face him, knowing that I took away the thing he loves the most?"

"He loves you," Mark tried to convince him.

"No, he won't, not after this. I will have stopped him from being a doctor. How can he ever forgive me for that?"

"Oh, Steve." Mark leaned forward to put an arm around his son's trembling shoulders.

"I've got to let him go, dad. I'd rather lose him than see him go through something like that again."

"Is that why you won't go and see him? Because you feel guilty? I'm sure that Jesse doesn't blame you. It was just a set of circumstances beyond anybody's control. Give him a chance, son. Just talk to him."

Steve looked at him doubtfully, through red-rimmed eyes. Mark smiled gently, convinced that Jesse's unresponsiveness was a direct result of not having seen Steve and that, if he could get the two of them to talk, then the healing would really begin for both of them.

"Please, Steve," he said. "He needs you more now than he's ever needed you in his life before."

*****

Mark decided that it might be too much of a shock for him just to turn up at Jesse's room with Steve in tow. He also elected not to mention Doctor King's analysis of his hand, thinking that maybe, if he could do something about Jesse's mental state, then that news would be easier for him to take.

If he hadn't known better, Mark would have thought that Jesse hadn't so much as moved during the whole time he'd been away from his room. The young man still lay motionless, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. But his lunch tray was still on the table and it looked like he had at least picked at his food.

"Hi, Jesse," Mark said as he entered. "I was wondering if you were feeling up to having another visitor."

Receiving only silence in response, Mark pressed on: "Steve's just having his dressings looked at, then he wants to come and see you. Will that be okay?"

For the first time in two days, Jesse turned to look at his friend. It was a start, but Mark couldn't help but be concerned by the wary look on his face and the fear in his desolate blue eyes.

"You've made him come here," Jesse whispered. It had been so long since he'd spoken that his voice was barely audible.

"No, Jess," Mark answered. "He wants to see you."

Jesse simply stared at him for the longest moment, as though trying to judge the sincerity of his words. Then, without either agreeing to, or denying the request, he turned his gaze back to the ceiling.

"I'll just go and fetch him then," Mark said, taking his silence as acquiescence.

Once he'd gone, Jesse felt his heart beginning to race. It wasn't until that moment that he realised just how much he'd missed the detective. But it wasn't excitement that caused such a reaction in him, it was fear. Pure and unadulterated fear.

How would Steve react to him? Would they ever be able to get back to how they had been? That beautiful, tentative beginning to their relationship, that had been so rudely halted before they'd even had the chance to try.

He didn't have too long to dwell on such matters. Steve's room was only a few doors away from his and Mark was back in almost no time. And he was pushing a wheelchair.

Jesse heard the door open, but didn't dare turn to look, too afraid of what he might see. Mark positioned Steve as close as he could to Jesse's bed.

"He's here, Jess."

Mark was tempted to leave then, but wasn't so sure if that were a good idea. The cast on Steve's arm prevented him from moving the wheelchair himself and he didn't want his son to be stranded if the meeting did not go as planned. So he positioned himself at the back of the room, to allow them as much privacy as possible.

Jesse couldn't hide any more. Steve was right beside him and it was time to face both him and any possible future they might yet have together. Slowly, he rolled his head and looked at the man he loved.

"Jesse, I am so sorry," Steve said, unable to hide his distress as he saw the state that the young man was in.

Jesse could only stare back at him in horror, feeling the tears threaten again. The love that had so recently been apparent in Steve's beautiful blue eyes was gone. In it's place was pity.

With an anguished sob Jesse curled up onto his side, with his back to Steve, buried his face in his arms and began to cry. Pity. That was all Steve felt for him now.

Guy had managed to take everything away from him: his dignity, his career and now his love. He couldn't stand the thought of Steve staying with him just because he felt sorry for him. That would be one humiliation to many. It was best to make a clean break.

"Jesse..." 

Steve didn't know what had gone wrong. He reached out to the sobbing man and touched his shoulder, but was forced to pull his hand back when Jesse jerked violently away.

"Just leave me alone!" Jesse cried, still not lifting his head. "Go away and leave me alone!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

__


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: All still apply.

SACRIFICES

__

(PART SEVEN)

Mark looked on, absolutely mortified by what was happening. Jesse lay sprawled across the bed, sobbing as though his heart was breaking, while Steve just watched him helplessly. Like his son, Mark just couldn't understand what had gone so wrong so quickly. All Steve had done was apologise.

The older doctor had to force himself to move. While he could see how much his son was hurting, this situation was doing no good to Jesse's all too fragile mental state. Wordlessly, he took hold of the handles of the wheelchair and guided Steve from the room.

"Call Doctor Bentley and have her go to Jesse's room immediately," Mark told a passing nurse. He didn't want his young friend to be alone at that moment, but he couldn't leave Steve.

The detective kept his head bowed during the short trip back to his room, not wanting anyone to see his tears. Jesse hated him. His dad had been wrong and Jesse really did blame him for what had happened. They were finished, before they'd even had the chance to start.

As Mark helped him back into his bed, he turned accusing eyes towards his father.

"Just talk to him?" he spat, taking his hurt out on the nearest target. "Did that seem to go well to you? Did that look like forgiveness?"

"Steve, I'm sorry." Mark bowed his head, knowing how inadequate his apology must have sounded, but meaning it from the very bottom of his heart.

*****

Amanda had the foresight to ask the nurse what was wrong, when she received the call to go straight to Jesse's room. She had a strong suspicion that she wasn't needed for medical reasons, if Jesse's life had been in danger then Mark would have called her himself, so she didn't want to walk into the situation blind.

What the nurse told her wasn't exactly helpful, only that Steve had been to visit Jesse and that it had to have been the shortest visit in history.

Amanda made it across the length of the hospital in record time, then gently eased open the door to Jesse's room. The young doctor lay exactly as he had when Mark and Steve had left him. Unable to stand the sound of his sobs, Amanda quickly crossed over to his bed, sat down beside him and gathered him into her arms.

"Sshh," she murmured, rocking him gently. 

Jesse didn't even have the will to try and fight her. He lay limply in her arms, barely even aware of her presence, as his tears soaked her lab coat.

"It's okay, let it out. That's it sweetheart, let it all out." 

Amanda drew on her experiences as a mother to keep up just the right flow of soothing words. After all, fear was fear, whether it be of non-existent bogeymen, or nightmares that were all too real.

Eventually, she felt the sobs begin to subside and Jesse began to struggle in her arms. Knowing that, by releasing him now, she would risk losing even the slight bond that they had forged, she tightened her grip.

"It's alright, honey, It's only me. Trust me, Jesse, you know I won't hurt you."

The young doctor ceased in his efforts to escape her embrace, but he did turn his tear stained face up to hers.

"A... Amanda?" he stammered, as though surprised to see her there.

"Yes, honey, it's me. Do you feel like telling me about it?" She used the same tone she always used when asking CJ to talk about a bad dream, non-threatening and non-demanding.

"It hurts, Amanda." The words had spilled out before Jesse had even realised he was saying them. "I gave him everything. I let that guy break my hand because I wanted him more than anything, more than I wanted to be a doctor."

"Oh, Jess."

"He doesn't love me any more, Amanda." Fresh sobs began to hitch in his throat. "When he... When he found me, he looked so... It was so humiliating... I couldn't protect myself... He... He's ashamed of me... I saw him... I saw his eyes... He doesn't love me any more."

Then Jesse was lost to his tears again and Amanda could only hold him close and whisper over and over again that everything would be alright, even though she didn't believe those words for a minute.

*****

"Jesse's problems have nothing to do with apportioning blame," Amanda told Mark some time later.

Jesse had eventually cried himself to sleep, but she had stayed with him until Mark, unable to stand Steve's stony silence any more, had asked to speak to her in private. Now they were safely ensconced in Mark's office.

"Are you sure?" Mark asked, praying that she was right. "I was there, Amanda, and the mere sight of Steve was enough to send Jesse over the edge."

"I don't doubt that for a moment, but it wasn't for the reasons that you think." She sighed heavily. "Jesse believes that Steve doesn't love him any more."

"What?"

"Think about it. Until today, Steve hadn't even tried to visit him."

"But that was because he was feeling guilty." Mark leapt to his son's defence. "He was trying to protect Jesse by distancing himself from him."

"You and I both know that, but has anyone explained it to Jesse?" Amanda looked at him sadly. "You were there when they found him, Mark. I know you didn't see him actually tied up, but you saw his reaction to it. He was naked and helpless and too many people saw him like that. He's ashamed, Mark. Guy Patterson took his every last ounce of dignity from him and when he saw Steve today, he thought that he was ashamed of him too."

"Amanda..." Mark suddenly found that he didn't actually have anything to say. 

"Mark, I don't think that any of us can fully understand just what Jesse went through. The whole situation must have been so degrading. He needs help, Mark and not the sort of help that we can give him."

"Let me try and talk to him." It was hard for Mark to accept that, for once in his life, he could do nothing to take away his friend's pain.

"It won't work," Amanda insisted. "You were one of the people who saw him. You're the last person he's going to want to see."

Distressed by the very thought that he might have added to Jesse's pain, just by trying to be there for him, Mark could only nod in mute agreement.

*****

Sometime later, Mark found himself outside Jesse's room, looking in on the young man. Jesse seemed to be asleep, but his slumber was anything but restful. A frown creased his all too young face and he shook his head occasionally, his lips moving, but no words coming out. It was obvious that he was caught in the grip of a nightmare.

Mark was desperate to go to him, to stroke his brow and chase away the bad dreams, but Amanda's words were like a lead weight, holding him down. His very presence would only hurt Jesse even more. With a heavy heart, he forced himself to walk away.

Needing to do something, anything that might even remotely help Jesse, he went back to see Steve. He steeled himself for a hostile reception and wasn't disappointed.

"Can't you just drop it, dad?" his son snapped, the moment that he stepped through the door. 

"I'm sorry, Steve, but I can't do that." He sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling about a hundred years old. "There's something we need to talk about."

"If it's about Jesse, then I don't want..."

"Oh, for goodness sake, Steve, will you stop being so Damned selfish for just one minute and listen to me?"

Mark's outburst shocked Steve into silence. He couldn't remember the last time his dad had yelled at him like that. Something had to be seriously wrong.

"I'm sorry," Mark said, before Steve could offer his own apology. "I know that you're hurting, but Jesse's hurting a whole lot more."

He saw the dark look that flashed across his son's features at the mention of the young doctor's name, but he also saw how Steve forced himself to bite back any angry retort he might have made.

"It's not what you think, Steve," Mark continued, genuinely grateful to his son, for the effort he was making. "Jesse doesn't hate you. He loves you and he doesn't blame you in the least for what happened."

"So why was just the sight of me enough to send him into hysterics?" Steve demanded, still reeling from the shock of Jesse's reaction.

"It's not easy for me to say this, but Jesse's problems are more psychological than physical. He can't come to terms with what happened to him."

"Or with the fact that it was all my fault. Dad, I don't see where you're going with this."

"Jesse has said less than half a dozen words to me since we brought him in. He can hardly even bear to look at me and he's certainly not blaming me for what happened." He saw from his son's face that he had given him something to think about. "Steve, what Patterson did to Jesse was not only frightening and painful, but it was also utterly degrading."

Steve's face clouded over at that. He remembered only too well how Jesse had looked, tied to that chair. Then he remembered how hurt he had been that the young man had barely looked at him, once he'd removed the blindfold. And he remembered Jesse's tears.

"He's deeply ashamed," Mark went on sadly. "I was there when the police rescued him and I have never seen anything like it. He was literally hiding in a corner. He couldn't bear the thought of anyone even looking at him. And it's still affecting him now. Anyone who saw him in there, you and me included, saw him at his absolute lowest."

"But it wasn't his fault," Steve protested. "For God's sake, they tortured him!"

"Jesse isn't exactly thinking rationally at the moment," his father reminded him. "He is ashamed of what they reduced him to, ashamed that he couldn't fight them, that he let it happen. And Steve, when he saw you earlier, he thought he saw that same shame in your eyes."

"Oh God," Steve whispered.

"It's not your fault," Mark assured him. "Jesse's just trying to find some way to deal with this. How would you feel, if people were to see you like that, naked and completely helpless? It's humiliating and I think he's come up with this defence, because he just doesn't know how he can face us after seeing him like that."

"But dad, he must know that we wouldn't blame him just for being a victim."

"Of course we wouldn't, but Jesse is in a whole world of hurt and he's just trying to find some way to protect himself. Patterson couldn't have known it, but by doing that to Jesse, he inflicted the worst possible kind of torture on him. Worse than any physical pain he might have put him through. After how he suffered with Marcus Marriott, he just wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with it."

"I've got to talk to him." Steve used his good arm to try and push himself out of the bed, but Mark placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"That's not a good idea, son."

"But I've got to let him know that I'm not ashamed of him. I love him."

"Steve, I don't think that there's anything you can say right now that will help Jesse," Mark tried to explain. "He's too withdrawn and I'm afraid that you'll just upset him further."

"But..."

"I'm sorry, son, but I can't allow you to visit." Mark said, regretfully. "Jesse's welfare has to be my top priority. Now, I've arranged for him to see a counsellor tomorrow afternoon. It's going to take time, Steve, and lots of it. But it will be alright, I promise you that."

Steve just looked at him, not willing to voice his fears that that was one promise his dad would be unable to keep.

TO BE CONTINUED... 


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: All still apply.

SACRIFICES

__

(PART EIGHT)

Steve couldn't sleep. What his father had told him played over and over in his head, denying him any peace. And if he were feeling so bad just thinking about it, then what must Jesse have been going through, trying to live that nightmare.

He managed to push himself into a sitting position, wincing as pain flared through his arm. He had been so concerned about Jesse, that he'd almost forgotten about his own multiple injuries.

The light in his room was dim and the corridors were in darkness. Steve pressed the button that lit up the face of his watch. It was almost two a.m. Regardless of the time, he swung his legs out of bed, then tentatively tried to stand up. Agony tore through his leg, forcing him to bite back a curse.

"Come on, Sloan," he muttered, through gritted teeth. "You've been hurt worse than this before."

His father's words floated back to him._ Jesse's hurting a whole lot more,_ and they filled him with new determination. He limped slowly across the room, leaving heavily on the wall for support, and somehow made it to the door without passing out.

Looking out into the empty corridor, he could see Jesse's room, just a few yards away. The distance looked impossible. His leg was on fire and throbbed in time to the rapid beating of his heart, even when he didn't put any weight on it.

_Just one step at a time,_ he told himself, easing himself through the door and making sure that the corridor really was deserted. He bit down hard on his lip, fighting against his pain.

Jesse needed him and, in spite of what his dad had said, he couldn't just lie there and do nothing. A look of grim determination on his face, Steve shuffled slowly forwards.

*****

"So what did Jesse say when you told him about the counselling?"

Mark and Amanda were back at the beach house. It was late, but neither of them felt much like sleeping. They sat on the big comfortable couch, drinking mugs of cocoa.

"He didn't." Amanda gazed into her cup, as she remembered Jesse's complete lack of reaction to anything she'd said after she'd returned to his room. "I think he only opened up to me the first time because he was so vulnerable. I really thought I could help him, Mark, but he's so..."

She trailed off, unhappily. If anything, Jesse was even worse following his stammered confession to her. He hadn't eaten anything and nobody could get any type of a response from him, about anything.

"I know," Mark sighed. "He's just withdrawn so far now, I don't know how anybody's going to be able to reach him."

"Who's doing the counselling?" Whoever it was, Amanda didn't envy their task.

"Martin Carmichael. He's trained in rape counselling. I know that Jesse wasn't actually, physically..." He couldn't complete the sentence, as the seemingly ever-present tears threatened to spill again. "God, Amanda. Why do such bad things happen to such good people?"

"Jesse will be fine," Amanda said, leaning forward to put a comforting arm around her old friend. "He's strong. He'll get through it eventually."

"Yes, I suppose he will. But at what cost? We're all so concerned about his mental state, that we're forgetting that he might never regain full use of his hand. And somebody's going to have to break that news to him sooner or later."

*****

It was torture. A few short yards down the corridor and Steve was almost ready to collapse. It was a miracle in itself that he was still standing when he made it to the door of Jesse's room, what felt like hours but in truth was only minutes, after starting his journey.

He eased the door open, concentrating only on being able to sit down and take the weight off his injured leg. Sweat stood out on his forehead and he couldn't prevent a grunt of pain as he limped, agonisingly slowly, towards the bed.

As he got closer, he could see that Jesse was sleeping. Still lying on his back, the only difference from when Steve had visited earlier in the day, was that now his eyes were closed.

Eventually, Steve reached the chair at the side of the bed and he sank into it with a sigh of blissful relief. Taking a few minutes to let the pain subside to a more tolerable level, he just sat and looked at his sleeping friend.

A sudden surge of grief flooded through him and he felt tears constrict his throat. It was just so unfair. He loved Jesse with all of his heart and would have done anything to take away his pain. But now that he was here, he was unsure of what he could do, without making things worse. 

He watched Jesse's slow and even breathing, wondering if he had been given a sedative. It didn't matter, it had taken too much effort for him just to get there. He wasn't about to leave without at least trying.

It didn't seem a good idea to simply wake his friend, that would be too much of a shock for him, so Steve just cleared his throat and began talking softly, hoping that his friend would hear him, even if it was only at some deep, subconscious level.

"Jess, I don't want to make things worse for you. God help me, I would never do that, but I had to see you. Amanda told me what you said to her." He paused, seeking to keep a hold on his emotions. "I love you Jesse Travis. That's all that I can say and I swear, I am not ashamed of you."

Feeling braver, he reached out and covered Jesse's small hand with his own.

"What you saw in my eyes, what you thought was shame, Jesse, I have to tell you, that was guilt. I did this to you, sweetheart and that's why I had such a hard time facing you."

Steve lowered his gaze to the floor, blinking back tears. This was harder than he'd ever imagined it could be.

"You see, I knew about Guy Patterson's release from prison, but I didn't see it as important. I didn't see him as a threat. God, if I could turn back the clock... If I had only..."

He trailed off, shaking his head, angry at himself for not being able to put into words what he felt so clearly in his heart.

"I..." Steve looked back up and stopped abruptly. Jesse's bright blue eyes were wide open and staring back at him.

*****

_Say something! Anything! _Steve commanded himself, but all of the words were suddenly stuck in his throat. Jesse's eyes were filled with tears and there was that same fear in them that had been so obvious that afternoon.

A part of Steve was expecting the young man to reject him again, to break down and push him away. He didn't think that he could handle that. So, he reacted in the only way that he knew how. 

Ignoring the fresh lance of pain in his leg, he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Jesse's lips. Looking deeply into his eyes, he tried to convey just how much he loved him, because he still couldn't find the words. To his horror, two tears trickled down the young man's cheeks.

"Oh, Jess," he breathed. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you any more. Please don't send me away. Please."

Steve eased himself back into the chair, unable to hide a grimace of pain that the movement caused him.

"You're hurt," Jesse murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

Fear was replaced by concern in Jesse's eyes and Steve had to quash the sudden surge of hope that welled though him. This wasn't forgiveness. It was just Jesse being the compassionate doctor he was.

"I'm okay," he lied.

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing that won't fix."

As soon as he'd said those words, Steve realised that he'd made a mistake. He had only tried to stop his friend from being too worried about him. He never thought of the consequences of such a flippant statement, until Jesse's forlorn gaze dropped to his left hand.

"Oh God, Jess, I'm sorry." He ran his hands through his hair, furious with himself. "You know me, always opening my mouth and putting my foot straight in it. God, I can't believe I said that. Jesse, I... Dammit! I'm not doing a very good job here."

"It's okay." But Jesse's tone of voice belied that statement.

"No, it's not." Steve continued to berate himself. "I came here to convince you that I totally, utterly and deeply love you, but instead I end up saying the most stupid, insensitive..." 

"Totally, utterly, deeply?" 

Jesse's softly spoken words cut through Steve's tirade and he looked down at the smaller man. What he saw there, in his shining blue eyes, almost caused his heart to stop. Jesse still looked afraid, but there was something else in his pleading gaze, something that Steve had never even dared to think he'd see. There was hope.

"Completely, hopelessly, devotedly," he whispered in reply. "Just tell me what to do, Jesse. Tell me how I can prove it to you."

Fresh tears were running down the young doctor's face, but now the faintest smile also touched his lips. 

"Just hold me," he pleaded, allowing his emotions to overcome him.

*****

Something had changed. As Mark and Amanda stepped out of the elevator the following morning, they could both sense it. On the floor where both Steve and Jesse's rooms were situated, the atmosphere was definitely different. 

Nurses who had, over the past couple of days, only been able to offer him sympathetic glances now smiled openly. It had to have something to do with Steve or Jesse. Unconsciously, both Mark and Amanda quickened their pace.

Arriving at Steve's room, Mark's first reaction was one of fear. The bed was empty and there was no sign of his son. But that wasn't in keeping with the upbeat mood of the staff. He exchanged a puzzled glance with his colleague.

"Doctor Sloan, you really should see this." 

A nurse was gesturing to them from down the hall. From, they both realised, outside Jesse's room. The nurse had returned her attention back to the window and was standing there looking in, with the strangest smile on her face.

The two doctors quickly joined her, following her gaze. Amanda gasped involuntarily, unable to believe what she was seeing. And Mark felt himself filling up again. Only this time, the tears were of happiness.

The hospital bed was narrow but, somehow, Steve and Jesse had both managed to get into it. They lay, entwined in each others arms, sleeping peacefully and with the most blissful smiles on their faces.

THE END.

Author's notes: Well, I hope that you all enjoyed 'Sacrifices' and, yes, I know that not all of the issues were resolved. But, I'm having so much fun with this pairing, I had to leave something open, just to give me an excuse to write the next part of this continuing saga. Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story. Your comments are always appreciated. Best wishes, Guardian.


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